


I Can Barely Afford The Blood On My Hands, And Yet, Those Candles Are On Sale

by Pepsi (Pepsiiii)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Devotion, Implied Murder, M/M, Running Away, lev is a prince, osamu cannot read, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepsiiii/pseuds/Pepsi
Summary: “What? No fool. The robe. The royal wear. The look of a king. You wear it like it was made for you.”Maybe he could wait on the burning.“Oh. Yes probably because it was dear. All my outfits are handmade to fit me. Only me.”OR; Lev and Osamu Kiss. Other stuff happens to, ignore the blood.
Relationships: Haiba Lev/Miya Osamu
Kudos: 5





	I Can Barely Afford The Blood On My Hands, And Yet, Those Candles Are On Sale

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna stop posting vague scenes of whatever royal/farm stuff I like. This one is barely strung together but its DAMN good. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“How much money do you have right now?”

265 dollars. 265 dollars Lev had been collecting (stealing from nearby pockets, finding under seat cushions and doormats, trading for other stolen goods) for months. 

“About 4 dollars.”

“What about your savings? The shit you keep under the bed or between the brick crusts within the wall. What about that stash?” 

Lev didn’t  _ have  _ a back up secret stash. He only had his main secret stash that he  _ really  _ needed to  _ stay secret _ . 

“I bet if I tear the wood off the floor I’d find a cent or two but- and I hate to admit this Yaku- I have no fucking money.” 

Yaku started at Lev and Lev stared at Yaku. For a moment the sound of birds outside and the chill of the autumn wind was the only thing in the tiny one-room apartment (that and the tension that was so big it was no different than a giant bear standing between them and  _ GOD,  _ Lev was desperate to kill that fucking bear. Bear fur sold for, assuming it was top quality, 300 dollars). 

“Don’t think you can get one over on me Haiba.”

“Never Yaku. I love you too much for that!”

Lev wished his mother wasn’t dead. He'd 've had Yaku gutted long ago if he did (human organs sold for about 270- 1000 dollars apiece. He tried selling his own innards on many occasions but unfortunately, his sister wouldn’t budge. Something about “without all your insides you aren’t  _ my Lyovochka”  _ and when she pleaded like that, who was he to say no). 

“Whatever.”

¥

Lev was a prince. He was a prince and he didn’t deserve to go through hell just because his life was falling apart. He didn’t deserve the fate of being the youngest son of the Haiba empire, he didn’t deserve to be woken up in the middle of the night by one of his mother’s trusted companions in a rush, fear etched on her face. He didn’t deserve to be rushed out of the castle in haste, only fast enough to grab his most important valuables and one final glance at his home before the smell of burning wood filled the underground tunnels. He didn’t deserve to flee the castle, nor the country, his last memory of the place he had loved and grown up in for 19 years being that of a palace engulfed in flames; giant clouds of smoke rising into the sky (a clear sign of death) ash painting the freshly fallen snow black. He didn’t deserve to feel sobs rack his body as he heard, miles outside of his kingdom’s territory, that his mother was killed for all to see— nothing more than proof of savagery. He didn’t deserve to meet up with his sister only for them to be separated again (unknown to each other’s real locations. Their only link being that of a lowly knight entrusted to deliver messages back and forth for as long as his legs could move him). He was alone and poor and  _ pissed.  _

He didn’t deserve any of it. 

And yet here he was. Months later, still having nightmares, still poor, still pissed and stuck in the middle of somewhere (somewhere shitty) waiting for the day he can finally go home with his sister. 

But now he had money. He had money and he was on a horse (that he  _ stole _ ) riding as far as he could. The landscape around him, while beautiful in its own way, just served as the perfect backdrop for Lev‘s deep and painful internal monologues about all the shit he’s endured in the last few months. 

¥

In the week Lev has spent with the Miya twins, he’s come to learn that silence was his friend. Silence coming in the form of a quiet onlooker, a figure in the background doing little more than watching and listening, taking note of what was going on, and never acting on it. The form of a man who did little more than work and cook, occasionally going outside to smoke (he didn’t seem addicted to the things, but Lev had smoked a cigarette or two a short while after he moved into the country and afterwards just assumed that everything in this country was a watered-down version of what he was used to at home. The cigarettes and liquor were so weak even a child would be safe from the vice of addiction).

Lev couldn’t remember the guy’s name but he did know that compared to the brother, who Lev did like very much, (just less. He was more like a court jester than anything) the quiet one was just better to fit Lev’s needs. Those needs being someone to listen to him without butting in and trying to add their own 2 cents even though Lev still had 268 dollars saved up (he was paid to translate things for the twins. 1 dollar per translation. Currently, he’d worked 3 times; each of which was translating recipes. Lev was lucky enough to move in with the smartest illiterates in town) and didn’t plan on losing a cent any time soon if he could stop it. 

He already had to pay a monthly rent of 3 dollars, so while not as high as his previous place, it wasn’t  _ cheap.  _

¥

“When a knight takes an oath, they- in a way- promise themselves to their leader.”

“What if the promise has nothing to do with the leader?”

Lev laughs and Osamu watches as the soft candlelight cradles his face from the darkness, illuminating his features and making him glow. He’s never felt jealous of a candle before (of mere light) but Lev, in his own simple-minded way, made new things happen constantly. 

“To be a knight of the highest power in the kingdom is to give yourself up for something you wholeheartedly believe in. Anything the knight does for the kingdom—they do for their ruler.” 

“What- is a king higher than god now? ?”

Lev hums and combs his hands through his hair. A few strands fall forward, the longer strands framing the sides of his face. 

“It’s less than they’re higher than god and more that… in the eyes of a true knight— they are god. Who wouldn’t do anything their god commands?”

Osamu continues to look at Lev and sees it. He sees the orange and yellow hues dancing on his skin, the barely-there red of his cheeks (most likely the cold of the room, but a man could dream) the hairs that have fallen out of place, just inviting anyone to come forth and fix it (a luxury truly, that of being able to touch the silvery locks whenever the mood hits, no matter who may be around- instead of staring longingly in the dark studies of a silent house, just waiting for something to burst their little bubble). Osamu, in all his straightforward thinking, finds himself at a loss for how he fell into this so hard. He can’t say he knows what it’s like to be a noble knight, but as he looks at Lev, (a king if Osamu’s ever seen one) he gets it. 

“I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Devotion to one’s god is one hell of a moral code. Who am I to say no to mine?”

“Yours?”

The candlelight is growing dim and Osamu hears his chair scoot closer to Lev’s before he knows he’s doing it.

“Figure of speech.”

Lev is looking at him, almost as if he’s about to say something (something he’s been wanting to say) and in typical Lev fashion, does.

“When you made that promise to me on my birthday you didn’t make it official.”

“How so?”

Lev leans in. The candle is little more than a smoldering ember, the light between them dying out as their faces inch closer. The house is dark and quiet and yet in this little room, they sit warm surrounded by a silent sound. 

“The promise, the  _ oath,  _ isn’t official until the king kisses his knight. ‘To take one as mine’ is the only way to truly prove one’s loyalty.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that then?”

“You- I wasn’t a king yet. You weren’t  _ mine  _ yet”

Osamu whispers out against Lev’s lips.

“ _Liar._ ”

¥

“So this is what kissing a prince is like…”

“Poor men taste different than I would imagine-”

Lev doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Osamu’s lips softly connect back to his own, the familiar (yet, oh so new) feeling of mouths opening against each other, tastes mixing and heat rising flooded Lev’s mind. 

¥  
  


“Do you ever regret it?”

“Not particularly.”

“None of it?”

“If I live in the past I’ll be blind to the future. Sounds drab. Seriously Samu, you’re very boring at times- I don’t plan to rule with such a thoughtful wooden broom by my side.”

Osamu laughs and Lev smiles, looking away from him and facing forward. 

He stares at the mirror. He looks at himself and sees the blood on his hands, hears the taunts in his ears, feels the cold metal of a knife on his skin. Underneath the golden robe and sashes, behind the tuxedo, he feels the scars from the past year and a half (the previous burning, itching, and hurting gone and replaced with an addictive numbness, no different from an especially strong shot of opium). He feels the buzzing of newly found power under his skin, a sense of calm filling his mind for the first time in ages— the peaceful tranquility he’s been starved of for so long. 

His eyes focus on the scratch on the side of his face. It’s still bleeding, just barely beginning to bruise. As Lev watches the open wound fill with blood (head wounds, always the bloodiest) he thinks about how he’s been covered a lot lately. 

He looks rather good in it. 

“You wear it well.”

“ _The blood?_ ”

Lev blinks a few times and stares at Osamu through the mirror. He never knew how the man was capable of reading his thoughts. 

Lev didn’t particularly want to kill his lover in a fiery display of support for the church, a way to prove his love for God and to condemn the evil of the world (witches and warlocks being a sin and all that- barbaric if you asked Lev but going against the church was out of the question) but as the new king, he would do what he must (though, if he was honest, knowing he had shared a bed with a true user of the dark arts would explain a lot about Osamu.  _ Especially the amazing cooking, mind-reading, conversation skills, smarts, mind, looks, overalls just really great attitude, blowing-out-of-this-world-inhuman-se-). _

“ _What_? No fool. The robe. The royal wear. The look of a king. You wear it like it was made for you.”

Maybe, he could wait on the burning. 

“Oh. Yes probably because it was dear. All my outfits are handmade to fit me. _Only me_.”

Lev knew he was considered the slow one in their relationship, but at times like these, he wondered where Osamu got these silly ideas. Of course clothes were made specifically for him; Of course he wore everything well, it was made to be worn! Osamu was lucky Lev loved the dim candle lights of the world far more than his own breed of bright burning fireplaces. 

“Only you.”

Osamu kisses at Lev’s neck and everything else fades into the background. _Oh_ , how Lev missed this.

“I missed this.”

Osamu hums (a low pitched acknowledgment of his comment, an agreement of sorts) and continues to kiss along his neck. 

“I missed you Osamu. More than anything.”

Another hum, another string of kisses and after two dark eyes starting up at Lev’s green ones. 

“Let me pamper my king before the official coronation. I won’t see you all day.”

“You’ve been away from me for 3 months now. Can one night break your patience that quickly?”

“Having you back makes it harder to watch you go.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

“You’ve rubbed off on me.”

Lev turns, wrapping his legs in the royal robe in the process, and cups Osamu’s face in his hands. 

“You know, I would sit in here and pray to meet someone as amazing as me- worthy to be someone called mine.”

Osamu leans into Lev’s space more (they do this a lot. Talking while kissing- intimate moments happening mid-conversation but not taking priority. A build-up of sorts).

“And while I haven’t found anyone as amazing as I, I may have found a very close second.”

“ _Second_?”

“You make me a better me. So yes. Second.”

“Maybe I should go then. Knock you down a peg.”

“Do you wish to be above me that badly? Bastard.”

“Mm..”

It’s hard to make out his response because now they’re doing little more past kissing. They break away and Lev swears he had a point or something of note to say, but he can’t temper much, his mind too preoccupied with going back to the lips he’s been away from for 3 months and 17 days, to go back to the man he’s been away from for 3 months and 15 days to go back to the life he’s been waiting for (240 months and 15 days).

¥

**Author's Note:**

> That was good huh? yeah ikkkkk 
> 
> every fic I post will just get a longer and longer name. eventually, the title will just BE the story. LOOKING FORWARD TO IT
> 
> you guys know the deal, comment your thoughts, praise me insistently, go on twitter and yell at me to be productive. It really means a lot when you do!
> 
> //Twt//@Burnttoastwbttr


End file.
